


The Fears which Consume Them

by afangirlimagines



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 12:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afangirlimagines/pseuds/afangirlimagines
Summary: Aziraphale wasn't a fool, you see. He had been an angel for millennia, and since Day One, he had been able to sense love.Yet fear is what always he always felt himself. A fear that Crowley goes too fast. A fear preventing them from coming together.But that's all over now that Armageddon has been averted... right?[Takes place immediately following the end of the series.]





	The Fears which Consume Them

Lunch at the Ritz to celebrate becoming their own team quickly faded into drinks at the bookshop. Crowley had immediately spread himself across the faded couch, legs strewn across the side, where he still was now, six bottles of wine later. Aziraphale himself began to look a bit disheveled as well, hair sticking up and vest askew. They spoke of all the nothings they hadn't had the time for in their meetings past - miracles they'd performed, their independent escapes in off moments, thoughts on the various trends of the humans around them. They also spoke of Adam's restored presents for the two of them, as well as his new additions to Aziraphale's bookshelves.

All in all, it was nothing new, but also what they've always craved. Time at each other’s side, unrushed and unhidden.

Aziraphale had found his way onto the couch besides Crowley as the evening progressed, legs now strewn across his lap instead. Crowley's glasses reflected the sloshing of his wine with each sip he took (their eighth bottle now), and Aziraphale longed to remove them from his nose.

He longed for more, if he allowed himself his honesty. Though, he supposed, there was no cause to hold his tongue any longer. What, or rather who, he feared were no longer a threat. The end of the world was over, and their treason ignored thanks to Agnes' prophecy. There was nothing to hold himself back.

He wasn't a fool, you see. He had been an angel for millennia, and since Day One, he had been able to sense love. Sure, there may have been a millennium or two where it was too fleeting or guarded for the source to be identified, and then another followed by excuses he had made because of course a demon could not feel love. But eventually, coincidences could no longer explain away the feeling of love, deep, _deep_, love, he felt whenever Crowley was beside him. All that was left was for Aziraphale to decide how he felt.

Fear. That's what he felt. What he always felt. Fear of Heaven, of Gabriel. Fear of Falling. And even, for a short while, fear that Crowley had simply loved the chase more than himself, and that the love would vanish once Aziraphale risked it all. A fear he'd be left with nothing.

But now, he had no reason to fear. Gabriel and the archangels were left feeling powerless against him and Crowley. He had loved, even secretly, the demon besides him for nearly a century and not a single feather in his wings had blackened. No burning or pain nipping at his soul. And Crowley had stayed beside him for six millennia, even through Armageddon and the trials for their treason. If Crowley hadn't decided to pack his bags and move to Alpha Centauri yet, there is no reason to speculate that he would now.

Aziraphale liked to think himself a logical being. And it seemed the only logical choice when all the obstacles to one's desire are gone are to proceed forward. He needed to make his feelings known to Crowley.

And maybe it was due to the ten bottles of wine which had been split between them, but at this conclusion, Aziraphale pushed himself forward, towards Crowley, yet again describing the tragedy of describing The Velvet Underground as bebop, in order to kiss him. A kiss which was long overdue.

Which is why Aziraphale was left stumbling when Crowley leaned backwards, away from him, a flat palm blocking his chest and keeping him from getting closer.

"Angel, um, I, I've got to be going. Check on the Bentley and all. Make sure Adam didn't give it any, uh, personal touches as he had given you."

Crowley stood up quickly and staggered for a second, alcohol rushing through his body much too quickly for his corporeal sense of balance. Part of him knew he should just miracle himself sober to make his leave quicker, but he couldn't bare even the thought of handling this situation sober.

"Crowley," Aziraphale demanded in confusion rather than anger. He knew Crowley felt the same for him. It was too much to be a coincidence. And yet, Crowley was pushing him away. He was running away as if Aziraphale was the one to fear. "Please."

Crowley came to a stop, only halfway to the door, but aware that tonight would not be the first time he learned to deny Aziraphale of his wishes.

"Why?"

"I go to fast for you," Crowley shrugged, facing Aziraphale and thankful his glasses masked his eyes. It was a deflection and they both knew it, but Crowley hid behind the words just as he hid behind his glasses.

“I’m not scared anymore, Crowley. I wouldn’t try to... I wouldn’t be here if I was.” Aziraphale took a step forward, arms reaching out slightly.

“Really? You’ve always been around, but you’ve never wanted to take another step before.”

“It’s different now, Crowley! Like you said, we’re on our own side now. Gabriel won’t try anything! We’re safe!” They could finally be together, and now Crowley couldn’t see it.

Crowley ran a hand through his hand, and groaned, “For now.”

Aziraphale stopped in his movements. “What do you mean? It’s over!”

“I mean what I said. How long do you think we’ll be safe for, huh? Both sides want a war, so at best we’ve delayed to. Even if the war comes and neither side forces us to pick up arms, it won’t be long until our tricks are figured out or they find a new way to punish us, angel. We’ve bought ourselves time and a temporary sanctuary. Nothing we’ve done here is permanent.”

“You don’t know that, Crowley. We cannot know the future. Why can’t we enjoy now while we have it?” Aziraphale approaches slowly now as he nears arm’s length. Crowley, startled by how close they now were, turned around on himself.

“I _can’t_. Why can’t you just drop it?”

“Because love isn’t something that can just be dropped, Crowley.”

Crowley spun around, arms flailing, just short of reaching Aziraphale. You don’t think I know that!? I’ve been drawn to you since we met in Eden and over all these millennia, all I’ve been able to do is love you more, even when I know there’s no reason to hold out hope.”

“But there is - “

“Because you know what would be worse than being silently infatuated with you for all eternity? Getting to know what that love feels like, to feel that love returned, only for it to be ripped away and ignored once the tides turn bad again.

“I want to be with you, angel. You aren’t wrong in the love you feel from me. But - but I can’t be given everything I have ever dreamed of tonight if I know tomorrow I’ll wake up.”

With that final sigh, Crowley walked out of the bookshop, out onto the street, letting the tears building behind his glasses finally carve wakes down his cheeks. He ignored his Bentley completely, walking solemnly to his loft for a much-needed period of hibernation.

**Author's Note:**

> If I were Crowley, I'd be terrified of getting a taste and getting addicted. Plus, there's no way Aziraphale couldn't feel the love from Crowley, right?  
\---  
EDIT: I am writing a second chapter to this fic. A chance for Aziraphale to show Crowley how much he loves him. To try to wipe away those fears.


End file.
